


[CLICK]

by Misterghostfrog



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Archivist Martin Blackwood, Canon-Typical Worms (The Magnus Archives), Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Has ADHD, Martin Blackwood is competent; the fic, Screenplay/Script Format, not explicitly stated but its implied and definitely intentional, season one rewrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:26:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26181115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misterghostfrog/pseuds/Misterghostfrog
Summary: [CLICK]Martin:Uh- test, test. One-two-three. alright.[THE SOUND OF SHUFFLING, MARTIN CLEARS HIS THROAT]Martin:My- my name is Martin Blackwood. Head archivist of the Magnus institute
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James, Martin Blackwood & Tim Stoker, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 10
Kudos: 36





	[CLICK]

**Author's Note:**

> So I heard someone say once that if you're procrastinating on a project you should have a second project beside it to jump too, so when you're procrastinating on one you're at least working on the other.
> 
> This is great in theory but if you have ADHD and one project gives you more serotonin that project is going to become The Only Project. I promise i'm still working on string theory though, I love the story i'm just fighting my brain to do it! Anyway please enjoy my obsession for the past month or so. So far it's just a S1 rewrite but if I keep procrastinating it'll probably expand.
> 
> Also; I copied bits of some of the original statements, some of Martins statement is mixed with Jon's (mostly because I didn't see a reason to rewrite her descriptions, bc I'm lazy) and Sasha's is pretty much the same since not much changed with Micheal. I just kept it in because Martins reactions regarding certain moments and her reasoning's were different and i felt like that mattered. Anyway, warnings aside. Enjoy!

[Case #0122204 Anglerfish]

[CLICK]

Martin:

Uh- test, test. One-two-three. alright.

[THE SOUND OF SHUFFLING, MARTIN CLEARS HIS THROAT]

Martin: 

My- my name is Martin Blackwood. Head archivist of the Magnus institute

[HIS VOICE IS NERVOUS, PITCHING UP SLIGHTLY AT THE WORDS ‘HEAD ARCHIVIST']

Martin:

I was promoted f-from the library to replace Gertrude Robinson, the previous head archivist. Who um- disappeared, several months ago. 

[HE CLEARS HIS THROAT]

Martin:

Anyway, Mister Bou- I mean, Elias. has me working on digitizing the archives. Which uh- I mean it'll be a bit hard, with the state they're in. I would've liked to try and organize them a bit before anything else- But it's fine! Elias probably knows what needs to get done better than I do, anyways.

Ah, anyway. We were having some trouble since some statements er- didn't seem to want to go on anything digital. Which , you know, is a problem what with the whole ‘digitizing’ thing. But apparently Gertrude had a bit of a stash of old tape recorders. Which, I mean. Wow. Retro, huh? I mean I guess it makes sense she was in like her eighties when she- well. Anyway. They actually seem to work just fine on the tapes. So we've got an entire separate section for those- oh, yeah. Speaking of we. I have assistants- Elias said I could ask for whoever but I- I didn't really have anyone in particular I wanted to bring down here so I let him choose. Anyway- Tim, Sasha, and Jon are my assistants. Jon was- apparently he was offered the position before me? I mean I don't know why Elias thought I needed to know that, but if he was meant to be archivist hopefully he'll know a thing or two about, y'know, archiving. I mean I was in the library so I know about preservation and sorting systems, but- well- anyway. Between him and Sasha- she knows her way around basic archival stuff apparently, and Tim's smart. He'll be helpful no matter what. But between the three of us we should be able to fix this mess up. 

[HE SIGHS]

Martin:

Once we've finished digitizing of course yup. Top priority, digitizing. doesn't matter that I found a box of statements with a who-knows-how-old coffee cup wedged in it. We want these all on tape. 

I mean. I understand if it's for accessibility, but the tapes make that sort of a moot point don't they- I mean I suppose it might be a funding thing. The institute isn’t exactly a for-profit- Oh, damn. P-people are probably going to listen to these um-. Okay, anyway. That’s introductions out of the way- I probably should have put this on a different tape. But for some reason with all the recorders sitting around, there’s hardly any tapes. And Elias was prett-y clear about wanting them digitized fast as possible. So waiting to get more was-

A-anyway, Statement of... Nathan Watts, regarding an encounter on Old Fishmarket Close, Edinburgh. Original statement given April 22nd 2012. Audio recording by Martin Blackwood, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

Statement begins, I suppose.

[CLICK]

[CLICK]

[THERE IS A QUIET SHUFFLING OF PAPERS, PUNCTUATED BY OCCASIONAL FOOTSTEPS. MARTIN BEGINS HUMMING QUIETLY TO HIMSELF]

Sasha:

Doing a bit of filing on the sly?

[MARTIN YELPS THERE IS THE SOUND OF PAPERS HITTING THE FLOOR.]

Martin:

C-christ! 

Sasha:

Sorry, Sorry Martin! I thought you heard me. 

Martin:

Sorry, sorry. God. Yeah. No- I mean. It’s fine! I was just caught up, is all.

Sasha:

I can tell, here. Let me-

Martin:

Oh, yeah

[THE SOUND OF QUIET PAPER SHUFFLING AS THEY GATHER THE FILES]

Martin:

Thanks, sorry again

Sasha:

I’m not sure how we got to _you_ apologizing to _me_ for scaring you, but you’re forgiven I suppose

[HER VOICE IS LIGHT AND TEASING]

Martin:

Hah- yeah, s- I mean, Thank you.

Sasha:

Anyway, Tim wanted me to ask you if you wanted to pop out for drinks with us tonight. It was a friday tradition back in research and he thought you might have fun.

Martin:

Er- I- sorry. I can’t. We’re so behind on statements, a-and i’m not actually sure that would be uh- appropriate? I mean I am sort-of your boss, I wouldn’t want to-

[THERE’S A PAIR OF FOOTSTEPS AND SOME SHUFFLING]

Jon:

Sasha have you seen- 

Martin, I was looking for you. I’m not interrupting anything am I?

Martin:

No! It’s fine, fine. We were just- What um- what is it?

Jon:

Oh, well I noticed a lot of these statements are... missing bits. Follow Up mostly, things we should have been sent in research that apparently never made their way up there. I was thinking we could do a follow up of our own. The three of us I mean.

Martin:

I mean, I-I- we’re the archives. Not research and- I mean some of these are so old that- I mean. There might not be much point?

Jon:

I see.

Martin:

B-but, I mean! Y'know! I suppose with some of them it uh- it couldn’t hurt to do a bit of follow up. I’ll um- I’ll add it to the digitization too. Might be useful.

Jon:

O-oh. Alright then! I’ll- i’ll let Tim know.

[A PAUSE, THE SOUND OF RECEDING FOOTSTEPS]

Sasha:

Are you sure that’s really necessary? I mean, we sort-of have our hands full already with all of, well, this.

Martin:

I- I mean, it could be useful. And- I read it’s supposed to be good to um- to take employee suggestions into account.

[SASHA HUMMS, UNCONVINCED.]

Sasha:

Alright then, bossman. If you change your mind about drinks though, let us know so we can wait for you. Alright?

Martin:

I- um. Yeah. Thanks.

[ANOTHER PAIR OF RECEDING FOOTSTEPS, MARTIN SIGHS]

[CLICK]

_[Case #0132806 Pageturner]_

[CLICK]

Martin:

-Statement ends.

I um- Y’know i’ve heard of Leitners before. Back in the Library, but I sort-of always assumed he was just a weird library myth. But apparently he’s actually a big deal, especially up in research. Jon nearly dropped his tea when I asked about it. Went white as a sheet, poor guy must have heard some stories- well. They were in research, so I suppose they would have- sorry. Not that it matters. Er-

So, research. They um- they found a bunch of details that match up with mister Swains account of everything. Jon was a little freaked out that apparently Ex Altiora isn’t actually on file in our er- catalogue. They checked the Oxfam charity shop donation records, but they were all anonymous. So that wasn’t much help- Mister Swain definitely met Gerard Keay, the description matches up perfectly. But all they found was he just sort of vanished after his trial.

Tim did find something really, really upsetting though.

Apparently Mary Keays body was um, mutilated. Post-mortem? A-and someone, someone s-skinned her. And write on the scraps in, in sanskrit.

[HE GULPS]

So! That’s- that’s definitely a factor. Lucky break for Mister Swain that Gerard was uh- in a good mood, I suppose. Not feeling particularly murder-y.

A-anyway I think that’s all for follow up. I think- I think it was a good suggestion, I mean. It’s not particularly useful archiving wise- though I suppose it’s um- it’s nice to try and give some of these something of an ending. Y’know? It always feels like they’re not quite... done, I guess? Like we missed the end of the story. But research, I guess it helps with that a bit. And the others- M-my assistants, look more, um- more comfortable. Doing research is a lot more familiar I suppose after so long in that department. And- well, I think... Honestly? Maybe they should leave most of the archiving business to me and sasha. I mean, look. I know they’re very qualified people, a-and they’re all doing their best and all that. But... God. I caught Tim and Jon _stapling_ statements! And not even the copies sent up for research or packets for students who need copies like Sasha does, the actual statements to the research notes! God- Jon was supposed to be the archivist instead of me- but he doesn’t even know basic document preservation! Me and Sasha spent an hour prying staples out of paper- and some of them were years old! I mean jesus I may not actually have any degr-

[MARTINS VOICE SUDDENLY OVERLAPS ITSELF, LIKE THE TAPE HAS BEEN RECORDED OVER]

Oops! Oh no! Clumsy me, must have hit the record button again. Hope whatever was on that wasn’t too important- hah. Ahem. Anyways. 

Recording ends, I guess.

[CLICK]

[Case #0140912 Squirm]

[CLICK]

Martin:

Statement ends.

Alright, well. That was. Horrifying. Gonna be haunting my nightmares for weeks, jesus.

So, followup. Um, the fire brigade said no evidence of arson. Not that it matters since he clearly just admitted to it- not that I blame him. Christ. Anyway- they found a bunch of, ‘charred organic matter’ in the bedroom. Probably the, ah, worms. No human remains though, not sure if that’s comforting or not.

A woman named Harriet Lee who um, matched that description was reported missing around that time. Honestly even if it didn’t record on tape I'd probably believe him, plenty of evidence for it. Poor guy.

Even poorer if Sasha’s right about the lady in red. 

It’s funny how much stuff I missed in the library, I always assumed that the supernatural was just a weird academic topic. But apparently there’s spooky nonsense and- and evil worm queens just wandering around london, I-infesting people. Kind of awful to think about how many people just think it’s a- a hypothetical. When it’s an actual problem.

I mean, not a common problem, but a problem.

I wonder if any of these statements are actually, y’know. Nice. Like, ‘ooh a ghost gave me back my wallet’ or ‘i highfived mothman’ or something. I mean, a real statement. Not the digital ones. Plenty of that nonsense on the digital ones.

[HE SIGHS]

Recording ends.

[CLICK]

[Case #0150409 Arachnaphobia]

[CLICK]

-Statement ends.

Yikes. Well, not sure what I expected there.

I actually like spiders. Ecologically speaking without them we’d have a complete crisis. Plus they’re kind-of cute. Little fluffy guys, they’re- Ahem. I mean. Not that that’s important. And I'm pretty sure Mister Vittery is uh, well. I don’t think he’d agree. And I don’t really... blame him.

Sasha did the followup on this one- I almost sent Jon, but apparently he’s got a ‘thing’ about spiders. And didn’t really appreciate the talk on their importance to the environment- Anyway. Sasha confirmed that he did live at that address according to records. But that’s about all we have on that front.

Uh- aside from that. Mister Vittery was not available for interview, since he was found dead a while back. He um. He was all wrapped up in spiderwebs, apparently choked to death on them.

Yeah. I don’t really blame him for not liking spiders. Not sure I could blame anyone after reading that. And- i’m glad Jon didn’t go out on this one. It’s sort-of starting to make me reconsider the field work aspect of research. I mean, nothing’s happened yet. But that doesn’t mean it won’t, right? A-and i’m their boss, it’s my job to keep them safe. 

Maybe i’ll let them know today that we’ll be uh- keeping to the office, from now on. Just to be safe.

Recording ends.

[CLICK]

[Case #9991006 The Boneturner’s Tale]

[CLICK]

Martin:

Statement ends.

Another Leitner. So there’s that.

I tried to talk to Elias about all of this stuff, how apparently Leitners are just hanging around in public places just- just waiting to turn someone inside out or- or something. But he just gave me a whole speech on the importance of 'recording without interference’. As if lives aren’t just as important as a stupid acedemic paper.

If people just, knew more about these things. Maybe, just maybe, some of this could have been- I don’t know. Prevented! At the very least people wouldn’t be left coming to us for scraps and not-answers, we don’t even explain anything. We just _watch_.

[THERE’S A PAUSE AS MARTIN TRIES TO COMPOSE HIMSELF]

A-anyway. Research.

Yeah.

Not a whole lot to this one, Jared hopworth had a warrant out for a little bit for breaking and entering and assault. But he just, vanished. No sign of him. 

Mister Adekoya died a few years later. It was ruled a car accident because of how- how mangled he was, even ‘without definitive external injury’. I guess Jared uh- Jared really held onto that grudge I guess. Poor guy.

Makes me feel better about my decision to keep research in-office though. Jon can throw as many fits as he wants, I don’t care how many sick days he cashes in. I’m not going to let them risk themselves to add a blurb to the end of a stupid statement. Not when there’s things like Jane Prentiss and- and Jared hopworth zooming around, _mutilating_ people. B-because that's how this works, you get curious, you investigate, you die o-or get hurt or, I don’t know. _Marked_ or whatever it is these things do that make them chase people. It’s not happening. I’m- i’m putting my foot down on this.

Recording ends.

[CLICK]

[Case #0022010 Freefall]

[CLICK]

Statement ends.

Great. Now to add ‘the sky’ to the growing list of things that can and will supernaturally devour you. Lovely.

So, apparently Open Skydiving doesn’t exist. At all. Sasha did loads of research, apparently skydiving companies need a ridiculous amount of licences to run and there’s nothing with that name in any of their databases. Which means it’s probably some sort of- spooky monster shell company. 

We found something else too, and when I see we I mean Tim- he did really well here. Apparently spent all day combing through incident reports in the doncaster area. I feel like he’s earned a- a half day or something. Can I do that? I mean, I'm the boss, right? I mean, Elias is the one in charge of bonuses and all that but- I should at least be able to give them a day off- A-anyway. Apparently A guy named Joseph Puce in the Doncaster area reported a parachute hitting the ground in the field near his house. No person attached, completely unopened.

All that learned without even needing to leave the archives. Take that, Jon.

Speaking of Jon, he- he’s been out long enough i’m sort-of starting to worry. I think he might have been telling the truth about being sick, I mean. I sort of assumed he was just throwing a fit with how he stormed off but- well, I don’t know. I think I should probably try and check in on him. Make sure he’s alright, he said something about a parasite in his texts. A-and he didn’t answer any of my calls to um, to follow up on that and- I don’t know... I worry.

Aside from that, Miss Kelly tried to report Robert missing, only to learn he basically didn’t exist four years previous. Which isn’t super surprising since he worked for a ghost corporation. 

There was a name in here that looked familiar, Simon fairchild-

[A DOOR SLAMS OPEN, MARTIN YELLS AND THERE’S A CLATTERING NOISE]

Martin:

Wh- Jesus- Jon!? 

[SOMETHING SQUELCHES]

Oh god oh god jesus christ what are those-

[CLICK]

[CLICK]

Martin:

Jon are you sure you don’t want- I don’t know, some tea? You look a mess.

Ah- I mean-

  
  


Jon:

It’s fine I know what you meant, but I don’t- I want this- I want what happened on the record. Now, while it’s- while it’s still fresh.

Martin:

Alright...

Are you sure you don’t just want a drink or something-

Jon:

_Martin._

Martin:

Fine! Fine.

Statement of Jonathan sims. Archival assistant at the magnus institute. Regarding...

Jon:

An encounter with the entity I believe to have been Jane Prentiss.

Martin:

Recorded direct from subject, 12th March, 2016.

Statement begins

Jon:

It all started after our... disagreement, about confining research to the archives. I- I after voices started getting raised I decided to take an early lunch, just to cool off. I felt it wasn’t doing our due diligence to only investigate from the office. There's far too much to be learned to just- of course I ah, said as much already.

Martin:

Yeah, I remember.

Jon:

Yes. Well.

I felt that you were wrong, clearly. And decided that I should try to investigate Vittery’s apartment myself to prove how useful field research can be.

Martin:

Wait- Jon are you serious? That was ridiculously dangerous, what-

Jon:

Well yes I realize that _now!_

Martin:

Sorry.

Jon:

It’s fine.

Anyway. I decided to go to vittery’s flat to investigate. It was easy enough to find, Vittery’s description was apt enough. I tried to get buzzed in to speak to the landlord, but nobody was answering. Probably all at work. But I still wanted to prove my point. So I- I went around the back. There was a window leading into the basement that wasn’t locked. So I jimmied it open- it wasn’t easy, the damn thing was stuck. And then once I had it open I realized it was- significantly higher than I anticipated. So I had a bit of a fall- don’t make that face I’m perfectly fine. It was just taller than I expected.

It was dark, and I hadn’t brought a torch- yes, I know I had my phone, I just didn’t think of it in the moment. I was... distracted... I didn’t like it down there. There was- there was something off, it... smelled. Wrong. Like something was going mouldy somewhere in a corner, and the air was thick and heavy. It made me feel rather ill. So Imade for the stairs up as quickly as I could, didn’t bother exploring. It wasn’t like he died in the basement, anyways.

The stairs were just across the way from the window, and the door wasn’t locked. So it was easy to just escort myself out into the halls.

I didn’t expect anyone to be in, but the door’s opened by an old woman in a headscarf. I tried to ask her some questions, but it became clear she didn’t really speak much in the way of English. After a few seconds she just shook her head and pointed behind me, closing the door unceremoniously. Turning around, I see a large, dark-skinned man in a very nice-looking suit eyeing me with a bit of suspicion. He introduced himself as Yasir Kundi, and said he owned the building, and became slightly more co-operative after I lied to him and told him that one of the upstairs residents had buzzed me in.

He immediately became less cooperative when I told him I was from the magnus institute. He told me there was nothing ‘spooky’ about his building, and I had no business sticking my nose in any of it. And told me in no uncertain terms I wasn't welcome to bother him or any of his residents.

I tried to explain that we are a legitimate academic institution. But he wouldn't hear any of it, and made it clear that if I didn't leave on my own he would escort me himself. So I left.

On my way out, I passed by the basement door again. And as I passed I spotted something on the floor in the hall.

It was small, silver. I at first thought it was a piece of metal, perhaps something i’d tracked up from the basement. But as I got closer I could see it was a worm. About an inch long and silver, with a blackened head like it had been burnt. It was rather disgusting. I made a noise, and it- it must have responded to the sound I suppose, it turned its little blackened head towards me. And started to- to squirm in my direction.

I crushed it of course, it popped under my shoe with a rather nasty crunching sound. And left behind an awful black ooze which I ended up wiping off on the carpet for lack of a better place to do it. It wasn't like it wasn't already disgusting enough I suppose so I doubt it mattered much. I hurried out of the building then, not keen to meet any more of the awful things.

I went to actually get lunch then, gather my thoughts before coming back to work and reiterating my argument. That’s when the idea to try again hit me, after all I hadn’t really messed with the basement. And I thought perhaps I might have missed something, there had been plenty of cobwebs. Which could have attributed to this ‘ghost spider’ Viterry kept seeing. So I finished my lunch and made my way back towards Boothby road.

It was dark by the time I got there, but the window was still open. I knew to mind the drop this time, so my entrance was much smoother.

When I hit the ground though, is when I think I realized something was wrong.

The air was still musty, but on top of that it was... humid, hot... Sick. Like a summer's day when you’re ill. Which, it was a cool february night. I thought there must be a furnace down there, heating up the basement but- the window was open so it should have at least had a breeze. And the air, it was just, heavy. In the moonlight the shadow I cast from my spot under the window looked... Wrong. It appeared to be moving on its own, twisting and writhing at the edges like- like there was something crawling on me.

There wasn't of course, I checked. Several times.

I-I assumed my mind was just playing tricks on me, I’ll never claim to be the bravest man and- I just assumed that it was simply a case of everything looking more threatening in the dark.

I pressed on, turned on the torch on my phone and began looking for any signs of spiders. But all the cobwebs were old, dusty. Clearly none of them could have been ‘haunting’ mister Vittery unless they were actually ghosts. And I was starting to feel like I might have wasted my time when I heard the noise from the other side of the basement.

It was movement, a rustling noise and something else I couldn’t quite place.

I didn’t want to look at first, I was... afraid. But then I told myself I was being ridiculous. I was trying to disprove the ‘ghost spider’ not buy into it. So I went to take a look.

The movement had stopped, or at least I couldn’t hear it anymore, and I’d almost made up my mind to just turn around and leave, when my torch fell across what looked like a human figure.

It appeared to be… a woman. She was facing away from me, apparently staring at the corner of the wall. Her hair was long and black, though it was so twisted and dirty it was hard to tell if that was its original colour. She wore a threadbare grey overcoat, though beneath it her legs were bare, and covered with what I at first I thought were spots. In her right hand she held a stained, green handkerchief. She stood there, totally still, either not noticing the torchlight that was shining on her, or not caring. I didn’t move a muscle.

Then, with a quick, jerky movement she brought the handkerchief to her face and coughed.

I don’t think i’ll ever forget the sound it made, a rotten tearing noise like ripping meat. And when she pulled her hand away something dropped from the handkerchief to the floor with a wet smack. A small silver worm.

I may have yelled, in disgust mostly. I... I regret doing so of course. Her head snapped towards me and she locked eyes with me. Her pupils seemed ragged and collapsed, and when she smiled her teeth were chipped and blackened. I started to stagger backwards, expecting at any moment for her to lunge at me, but instead she slowly reached up and… let the overcoat fall to the floor.

Her skin was pale, almost grey, and full of… holes. God it still makes me sick to think about. Deep, black holes just honeycombing every bit of flesh like a… wasps’ nest. I could see those… thin, silver worms crawling in and out, and their black tips twitching as they squirmed through that pitted meat. I mean, it wasn’t human. It can’t have been. Some sort of parasite, clearly. Sh-She… It took a step towards me and as it did so the worms began to writhe out of every hole and cavity, falling to the floor in a cascading wave and starting to crawl towards me with… with alarming speed.

I didn’t think, just turned and ran. One of the worms leapt at me and I- er. I may have thrown my phone it in my panic. Stupid, of course. My only light source and I just threw it to the worms. And I doubt it did anything of use, but I wasn't really thinking clearly in the moment. I made it up the stairs though, the basement door wasn’t locked, which- if it had been i’m not sure i’d be here.

I didn’t stop running until I was on the underground, I checked everywhere for worms. I must have looked mad patting myself down and peering under the seat. I didn’t relax until i’d made it to my front door without another worm in sight. I- I didn’t intend to tell anyone what happened- aside from the police. I've read the descriptions, I knew the thing I'd encountered must have been Miss Jane Prentiss herself. Or whatever's left of her, that is. But I thought- well I thought that admitting what happened would rather undermine my point. So I emailed you and told you I was ill- and went to bed. 

I don’t know how long I slept for, but it was still dark, or maybe it was dark again when the knocking woke me up. I don’t know if it was the same night, or if I’d slept right through the day. Either way, I dragged myself up and, as I sat there, it all came back to me, what I’d seen. and I felt quite ill. 

There was more knocking, and I reached up to flick the light on. But when I did so nothing happened. I tried the lamp next to my bed, but again, nothing. Looking around I saw that none of my electronics seemed to be on. There must have been some sort of power cut. Again, someone knocked at the door. Maybe it was one of my neighbours… coming to check whether I’d lost power. I shuffled over to the door, and reached for the handle.

As I was about to open it I had a though and stopped. What if she was outside, waiting? I mean th-the worms that made a hive of her body, eager, striving to make me one as well. I’m not an idiot, i’ve read about Prentiss, I know what she... what she does to people. So, just to be safe I checked the peephole.

The nausea in my gut swirled and my head began to spin. It was her, her pockmarked infested face warped and distorted in the glass of the peephole. Crooked blackened teeth on display in a miserable warped smile.

I stumbled back, fumbling for my phone to call 999. Only to remember I dropped it down in the basement, I didn’t have a landline, and even if I did the power was out. I had no way to call for help. I was alone, trapped, with Jane prentiss at my door.

That’s when the worms started squirming their way under the door.

I may have gone a bit mad then, stamping and yelling. I grabbed every piece of fabric I had at my disposal to cram under the door- and anywhere else a- a worm might have gotten through.

This went on for thirteen days. Every time I thought it might be safe to try and leave I’d hear that knocking at my door come back. Luckily there was no problem with my water supply, so I had plenty to drink. I’m just glad none of them thought to come up through the pipes. I don’t cook much, no time for it. So I keep mostly ready meals, cans, that kind of thing, so I had food, although after the first few days I had to start rationing.

I don’t know where I got so many cans of pie filling. But I doubt i’ll be eating it again anytime soon.

The worst part about it was the boredom, though.

The first few days were alright, I keep enough books on hand to keep me occupied in my off hours. B-but I don’t really make a habit of having too many off hours, so it’s not really a lot. and the thing is I don’t _reread_ books. Ever. I don’t know why. I’ve never been able too, ever since I was a child once i’ve read it once it feels like there’s any point I suppose. Even different books by the same author feel redundant, i’ve only ever read one agatha christie. A miss marple, tried to read poirot afterwards but it just felt like the same book. Anyway, I have something of a circulating collection. I do keep some once i’m done with them if I really liked it, but if I kept every book I ever tried to read i’d end up buried in them. 

I burned through every book I had on hand within four days. I tried rationing them out too, but i’ve never been good with boredom. Silence, nothing. It just... it gets to me. When there’s not enough to keep me occupied I can’t focus, I get antsy. And I have a habit of being... impulsive. On occasion. So I burned through my collection and then there was just... nothing. 

It was like I was floating in a void, punctuated by the occasional knock on the door or worm check. I tried to sleep, but I kept being woken by that horrible crawling sensation and I would have to get up and check myself over for worms.

After a bit I even started to look forward to the knocking. A break in the monotonous nothing that was my day to day. I didn’t even have a clock to tell the time without power, I have an analogue but it had run out of batteries a while back and I could never remember to change them. Serves me right I suppose. I spent a while trying to remember anything important about Prentiss besides what she does to her... victims. But the reports never said anything about a situation like this.

Honestly I barely remember anything about the second week, my head was so full of fog I- I couldn't think. There was nothing to do and honestly I think I considered opening the door once or twice just to- just to make something happen. I didnt of course, I know better than that and tortuous boredom is better than being full of those awful worms.

I- I don’t know what tipped me off that she was gone, I was sleeping on the couch- I thought it would be easier to keep an eye on the door that way. And then I woke up and something was... different. Maybe it was the smell? That, awful sickly smell she carried around it- it wasn’t there. So I went and checked the peephole. And she was just, gone.

I didn’t wait, I should have, probably. She might have been waiting off to the side. Trying to trick me. But I couldn't stand the idea of sitting there doing nothing for a moment longer. I threw open the door and I ran. Didn’t stop until I got here.

Martin:

Jesus, Jon. God. I-I’m so sorry, that’s... god I can’t even imagine.

Jon:

It’s fine.

Martin:

Wh- christ Jon no it is not ‘fine’! You were held hostage for two weeks by a worm woman- there’s no world in which any part of that is fine! L-look, I can talk to Elias about expensing a hotel for you, and until then there’s a cot in the archives. I think it’s leftover from Gertrude but- you can stay here for a while until we figure out all- this. 

Jon:

I- that’s really not necessary. I can just stay at my flat-

  
  


[HE’S CUT OFF BY A PHONE BUZZING, THERE’S SOME SHUFFLING AND THEN A PAUSE]

Martin:

Nope! No. Absolutely not, actually. You’re definitely staying here!

[HIS VOICE IS SHRILL AS HE CLEARLY TRIES TO HOLD BACK PANIC]

Jon:

What- why?

Martin:

I- just got a text from Prentiss- on your phone. Which- she’s been using it to call in sick for you by the way- and. God. “Keep him. We have had our fun. He will want to see it when the Archivist’s crimson fate arrives.”

Jon:

A-ah.

Martin:

I’ll get you some blankets from my flat. And i’ll also talk to Elias about some- extra security. He can’t exactly ignore- I mean, ‘observe and record’ a direct threat to the archives and it’s employees. A-and if he does... Well. _I’m_ not going to ignore it.

You- you should get some rest, you said you didn’t sleep well during- no. Wait, food. Food first. Come on. We’ll have Sasha and Tim join in, make it a proper lunch party.

Jon:

A-alright.

[CLICK]

[CLICK]

Martin:

Sasha are you sure-

Sasha:

Yes, Martin. I’m positive. Besides, it’s just a scratch. I promise.

Martin:

I-I just-

Sasha:

Worry. I know. I just- I want to make a statement while it’s still fresh in my mind.

Martin:

Alright. Statement of Sasha James, assistant archivist at the Magnus Institute, London, regarding…

Sasha:

Let’s just call it ‘a series of paranormal sightings’.

Martin:

Statement recorded direct from subject, 2nd of April, 2016. Statement begins I guess.

Sasha:

Right. Well, I’m sure you know I was skeptical about how dangerous this Jane Prentiss was when you first suggested Jon stay in the archive. I mean, it’s not that I didn’t believe him about what happened, it just seemed… Well, Jon is a great researcher, but his self-preservation instincts are pretty bad, and to be frank I thought that if this Prentiss were the danger everyone seemed to think, then he’d almost certainly be dead.

Don’t get me wrong, I mean, I’ve read the same statements and profiles as anyone else, so I know how many people have died because of her. What was it, six hospital staff when she was first admitted?

Martin:

Seven, actually. six from- from ‘ _colonization_ ’. And one broke his neck in a fall when she got out.

Sasha:

But that was two years ago, and whatever she is now, it sounds like her condition is degenerating. I just wasn’t sure how much damage she’d still be capable of. So I guess… I didn’t take as much care as I should have when I was coming into the Institute yesterday. The thing is, I’m still not sure how much of a threat she is. I’ve seen plenty of those silver worm things squirming about outside, same as you, and I’ve made a point to step on them every time. What happened just made things more… complicated, I guess. I’m not really sure what to think.

I’ll start with the first thing I noticed. I live up near Finsbury Park, and my building is old. Victorian, I think, and though it’s been repaired and maintained quite well, it’s got all sorts of strange little quirks. One of these is the windows. The actual windows in the flats are fine, but the stairwells - they have slightly warped glass, where the windows have those little bubbles. Looking down on the street below can be a bit strange, as the glass bends the light and distorts whatever’s below it. I never really paid much attention to it until a few days ago, but it’s not a new thing.

It was the day before yesterday when I first saw it. When I’m heading down the stairs in the morning, I sometimes like to spend a few seconds looking out of the window at the people on the street below. I’ll move my head so that I see them through the warped glass, and they’ll distort like a funhouse mirror. It’s a bit daft, but I have a pretty dreary commute down to Victoria, so I take my fun where I can get it. Well, on that morning I paused before the window, and noticed one of the warped figures below was… off, slightly. It looked too tall, the limbs and body were very thin and almost wavy, like they didn’t have any structure or bones in them. I, I couldn’t make out a face, but it was the hands that were the most bizarre. They seemed to be stretched and inflated by the distorted light, until they were almost the size of the rest of the torso. The fingers were long and stiff, and seemed to end in sharp points. It stood completely motionless, and I could feel it staring at me.

Moving my head to the side, I saw that the actual person I had been looking at was a large man with long, blond hair. He was neither stood still nor facing me, instead moving around the display of the flower shop opposite my building. Nothing about the guy seemed especially out of place, but I made a mental note to keep a lookout for him. I checked again through the bubble of bended glass and again I saw that tall figure with its limp arms and huge hands.

Now, you know me John, I’m, I’m not exactly the bravest person in the world. I generally avoid horror and I tend to stay off rollercoasters in the rare situation I have a chance to ride them. So I was as surprised as anyone that this undeniably sinister figure wasn’t causing me more distress. I mean, I was a bit nervous, sure. I’ve never had any direct experience with the supernatural before, and the more I looked and checked and double-checked, the more sure I was that supernatural was exactly what it was. To be honest, I was surprised how quickly I accepted that. I’ve always considered myself a bit of a sceptic, and until recently I’d have said working at the Institute only made me more so.

Anyway, I watched it for about ten minutes, until the blond man bought a small bunch of lilies and walked away. Once he was gone, the distorted figure with the long hands disappeared as well. I headed down into the street and over to the flower shop. The woman working there gave me a bit of a confused look when I asked if there had just been a tall, blond man in her shop. She said yes there had, and no, she hadn’t noticed anything strange, and was I looking to buy some flowers. I was quite confused myself, and on a bit of an edge when I left. I was already late for work, though, so I decided to ignore it and just keep an eye out.

Sure enough, it wasn’t too long before I saw him again. There’s a small café I generally pop into when I head to work in the morning. I love the Institute’s building, of course, it’s beautiful, but from a money point of view, I really wish it wasn’t in Chelsea. Everything around here is so expensive. I generally walk down from Victoria Station. It’s a long walk, but quite pretty, and it gives me a chance to pick up a coffee on the way. As I said, I was running late that morning, so I was a bit conflicted about whether to get one, but as I looked in the window I saw a familiar figure at one of the corner tables. Again, the blond guy wasn’t looking in my direction, nor did he seem to give any indication that he was aware of my existence. He was there, though, and I was on the verge of walking in and confronting him when I noticed the time and decided getting to work was more important. Besides, what’s that old saying? “Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, three times is enemy action”. I decided that if he turned up a third time, then I would ask him… something. I don’t really know what I was planning to ask him. “Are you secretly a monster?” probably would have been a great opener.

[MARTIN CHUCKLES]

Sasha:

When I got here, I realised I needn’t have worried so much about the time. Jon was having some argument with Tim about… um, oh, who’s that architect he’s obsessed with?

Martin:

Oh I think it’s- Smrike, something? Roger? Robert?

Sasha: 

Yeah, that’s the one. And you were apparently up with Elias about security again, how’s that going by the way?

Martin:

Erugh.

Sasha:

That bad?

Martin:

I don’t know why but he just- he won’t take me seriously on this! I-I mean I know I can be prone to... overreacting, sometimes. But this is- ugh.

Sasha:

Well, maybe this will be enough to convince him.

Martin:

Maybe

Sasha:

So, I was starting to regret not getting a coffee and talking to tall, blond and monster, since it didn’t seem like I’d have missed much. I got on with my work, did some filing, cross-checked a few statements with police incident reports. I mean, I guess I don’t need to tell you what a day working in the archives entails. It was a quiet day, even with Jon rationalizing and talking about ‘unclassified parasites’ the entire time.

[MARTIN SIGHS]

Martin:

I really wish he’d stop doing that

Sasha:

What? Stewing in denial?

Martin:

Yes! I mean, I know the whole thing was probably traumatic. But he’s not doing himself any favors by pretending everything’s fine. I swear he’s acting like even more of a skeptic than before the whole worms thing. I mean- he’s living in the archives for chrissakes! He can hardly go around saying nothing’s wrong when he’s literally being stalked by a- a living hive.

Sasha:

  
  


I think he’s just coping the only way he knows how.

Martin: 

I know, I know. It’s just... frustrating. He just- I don’t know... B-back on topic though. Why didn’t you tell anyone about this?

Sasha:

Honestly? I knew you’d tell me to leave it, I know I know- it’s for our own safety and all that. But really I just, I wanted to know. And we’re not going to solve any mysteries cooped up in the office.

Nothing else had happened until I left work. It must have been about half past six, so the sun was just about starting to go down, and I headed back up towards Victoria. The first thing I noticed out of the ordinary was that the café was still open. Normally they shut up about six o’clock, but the lights were on and the door was open. I couldn’t see anyone behind the counter, though, and there was only one customer. He sat there in the exact same position he’d been in that morning, drinking what could easily have been the exact same coffee.

I looked around to see if there was anyone else who could confirm what I was seeing. The street was empty, but as I looked, a car drove past. In the curving glass of its tinted windows, I saw him there, the weird distorted body, rail-thin and limp, the hands huge and sharp. And then the car passed on and I turned back to see a normal-looking man. But now, for the first time, he was looking at me. He gestured to the chair across from him, clearly inviting me inside. I don’t know why I wasn’t more scared going in there, but I wasn’t. My curiosity apparently conquered my nervousness.

He didn’t speak when I sat down, and I saw his coffee cup was empty. Whatever was inside had dried up hours ago. He seemed to be waiting for me to ask him a question. So I asked him what he was. He laughed at this, the first sound I’d heard him make, and it sounded… unnatural. Like he was laughing very quietly, but someone had turned up the volume up so I could hear it. He said it didn’t matter what he was, that he couldn’t describe it even if he wanted to. What was the phrase he used… “How would a melody describe itself when asked?”

This put my back up a bit to be honest, and I told him if he was going to talk in cheap riddles I was just going to leave. He actually apologised, told me I could call him Michael. I didn’t want to call him Michael; it didn’t seem to fit somehow, and the way he said it made me think that it definitely was not his name. Still, it wasn’t like I had any other name for him. - no, not for him. For it.

It sat there, clearly waiting for me to ask another question - so I did. I asked it what it wanted, and was told that it wanted to help.

Martin:

Er- with what?

Sasha:

That’s what I said. Did it want to stop Jane Prentiss? It laughed that weird laugh again and told me that I had no idea what was really going on. It didn’t sound like it had any intention of telling me, though, it just seemed like it was amused by my attempts to understand. Then it said it didn’t care if I or my companions lived or died, but that “the flesh-hive was always rash”. It said it wanted to be friends. When it said this it put its hand in mine, and it may have looked like a human hand, but it was heavy. It felt like a… wet leather bag full of heavy stones. Sharp stones.

I pulled my hand away quickly and got up to leave. By this point I was just about sick of this weird thing that looked like a person but was not a person and talked in riddles. It made no move to stop me as I headed towards the door. As I was about to exit, though, it called after me, and said if I was interested in saving your life it would be waiting at Hanwell Cemetery.

Martin:

Wh-wha. _My_ life!?

Sasha:

Yeah, it mentioned you by name. You, Jon and Tim.

Martin:

Wh- b- th-

Sasha:

Come on Martin, just breathe.

Martin:

I-I, sorry I just-

Sasha:

It’s alright, Martin. I’m’ pretty sure that’d be any normal person's reaction to hearing something like that.

Martin:

Y-yeah.

Sasha:

At the time I just tried to ignore it. I went home and I got as much sleep as I could. I don’t know if you noticed how tired I was yesterday, what with Tim’s April Fools’ joke and everything.

[MARTIN GROANS]

Sasha:

Yeah that was just about my thoughts on it too

Anyway, I was a bit of a mess. I checked the cafe on the way in, and on the way home, I even went down there on my lunch, but ‘Michael’ wasn’t there. Part of me wanted to tell you about it immediately, to make a statement. But I knew you’d’ve told me to stay put and just try to find out about this whole business from afar. And I knew this wasn’t going to be resolved at a computer.

Martin:

So you went, without telling anyone.

Sasha:

Look, I didn’t know if what ‘Michael’ had said was a threat or a warning or just a lie, but I decided I couldn’t take the chance. So I went to the cemetery. And I know, it was an unnecessary risk and I should have known better, etcetera etcetera. Just listen.

The sun was starting to go down when I got there, and the gates of the graveyard were lit with the bright orange of the dying light. It had been raining earlier that day, and the pools of water reflected the vivid colours of the sky. Hanwell is an old cemetery, and past the walls I could see the weathered old gravestones standing silent. As it turned out, I didn’t have to go inside. Michael was waiting for me next to the tall iron gates when I arrived. I caught a glimpse of its reflection in one of the deep pools of rainwater, and shuddered as I saw again - the warped body and swollen, bony hands.

It didn’t say anything when I arrived, just nodded at me to follow. I have no idea how long it stood there waiting for me. I expected to go into the graveyard, but instead Michael started walking down the road towards a nearby row of houses. The sign on the road said Azalea Close. Most of the buildings were in good repair, but there was one at the end that looked abandoned. It might have been a pub at one point, but now all the windows were boarded with metal sheets, and covered with dirt and graffiti. The door, however, was open and swinging gently. Michael went inside, clearly expecting me to follow, so I did.

Inside was dark and dusty. I was annoyed with myself that I hadn’t thought to bring a torch, but just enough of the setting sun came through the door for me to see by. It clearly had once been a pub, and the bar appeared to be intact, though riddled with woodworm. Sitting on top of it was what looked like a builder’s kit, with a toolbox and a small fire extinguisher. I was just about to ask Michael why we were here, when I heard it. A low, wet groan coming from the far end of the room, where the light didn’t reach. It sounded like someone in a great deal of pain.

I walked towards the noise. As I got closer my eyes began to adjust, and I saw the floor was covered in pale, writhing shapes. I had a listen to Martin’s statement after you recorded it, so I knew what to expect. But hearing about something doesn’t even come close to seeing it. To smelling it. I expected to see what Martin described - a squirming mass that was once Jane Prentiss - but the figure slumped against the wall looked like it was once a man. The worms wriggled out through the holes in his skin. The ‘flesh-hive’, Michael had called it, and the silver things formed clustered knots where his eyes used to be. I couldn’t help it. I gasped.

It wasn’t a loud sound, and given how sick the whole situation made me feel I think I actually was quite composed. It was loud enough, though. The head snapped around to face me, dislodging a small cascade of twisting shapes. The mouth opened as he tried to scream, but that wasn’t what came out of his mouth. The worms also seemed to have taken notice and began to move towards me at an alarming speed. I backed away, but slipped on a piece of loose wood and fell into the bar. I glanced desperately at Michael, but it just watched me, its face unreadable.

I started to try and stamp on the worms as they approached, but there was just too many of them. Staggering to my feet, I felt my hand come to rest on something cold and metal - the fire extinguisher. Without thinking, I pulled the pin out and squeezed the handle. A cloud of gas shot out and, to my surprise, the silver worms began to shudder and recoil, shrivelling and dying. I began to walk forward, catching every last one in the jet of gas. Finally, I found myself standing over the mass of pitted and hollow skin that was once a man. He shuddered violently as the gas engulfed him, and then lay still.

I was breathing heavily, and the CO2 from the fire extinguisher was making me feel light-headed. For some reason I felt like I should check his pockets. They were empty except for a wallet. It was stained with blood and other… substances, but the name on the driver’s licence was still readable: Timothy Hodge.

As I stood there, staring at the wallet, I felt a sharp pain in my right arm. I looked up to see Michael, reaching into my shoulder. Its fingers were long and distorted as they reached through my skin, cutting it like paper. I screamed. After a few seconds, it withdrew its hand. Held there was a single silver worm, wriggling pathetically in its grip. I hadn’t even felt the thing burrowing into my arm.

After that it’s all a bit of blur. I remember I was going to phone the police, but Timothy Hodge’s corpse was gone, and I was worried about trespassing, so I just sort of wandered away. Michael, or whatever it was, had gone as well. Eventually I found my way back to the Institute, where I must have woken up Jon and, well, here we are.

Martin:

Jesus.

Sasha:

Mmhmm.

Martin:

So. Fire extinguishers. That’s- that’s doable. And you- you should um, take a few days off. Rest up. And- and no more spooky investigations. Or at least if you do just- just call someone, let me know. I-I clearly can’t _stop_ you if you want to go hurling yourself into danger. But I-I’d rather none of you just... disappear. Alright?

Sasha:

Fair enough, next time I get hit up by a monster pretending to be a human- i’ll let you know first.

[MARTIN CHUCKLES HALF-HEARTEDLY]

Martin:

That’s good enough for me.

[A PAUSE]

Martin:

You should really- you should quit, you know. All of you. B-between the- the worms and... this. The archives aren’t a safe place. You should all quit now, while- while things are still tame.

Sasha:

Yeah.

Martin:

But you won’t, will you.

Sasha:

I guess not.

Martin:

Why?

Sasha:

I’m just too damn curious I suppose.

Martin:

Hmmm.

Sasha:

And you? Why haven’t you quit?

Martin:

I... I don't know... You- you should go home. Get some rest 

Sasha:

Martin...?

Martin:

Mandatory, three days off. No buts. I’ll see you.

Sasha:

Martin-

[CLICK]

[CLICK]

Martin:

Statement ends, I guess.

I-I don’t exactly have any ‘follow up’ on what happened to Sasha. I feel like it might be a bit rude to try. She told me what happened and I trust her. Besides i’m mostly just adding this to just, record my thoughts?

[HE SIGHS]

I-I suppose I was right about um, Timothy hodge. Poor guy. Nobody- nobody deserves that.

And on that note I guess... I guess i’ve got my ‘nice’ supernatural encounter. Wasn’t exactly what I was hoping when I asked for that but if it helps keep Jon and the rest safe then, well. I unless I can’t really complain.

I-I just wish it didn’t make me so uneasy. I feel like... I feel like maybe this was, I don’t know. A test? O-or a trade? Like some faery nonsense where he helped us now he’s going to take one of our firstborn or- or something. I just, I don’t think I can trust it. I mean i’m obviously going to get more fire extinguishers. Elias can’t fight me on that, especially not if I start bringing a lighter into the archives.

[HE CHUCKLES AT HIS OWN JOKE]

Maybe, maybe i’ll try and bring up the topic of quitting, or- or transferring back to research to the others. It’d just- it’d be safer that way.

Now I just need to stop thinking about... all of this. Just for a bit. Maybe i’ll make some tea.

Recording ends

[CLICK]

[Case #0161704 Skintight]

[CLICK]

Martin:

-orry I was just, sorry. There we go.

Melanie:

It’s fine, honestly it’s always nice to meet a fan.

Martin:

Haha, um, A-anyway! Um, if you could just state your um- your name and the sort-of subject of the statement. And we can get started

Melanie:

Wait, seriously. Into _that_?

Martin:

Er- yeah?

Melanie:

Look, no offense but do you seriously not have anything better than a hundred year old tape recorder?

Martin:

W-well, I suppose I could, erm. I could try it on the laptop too if that would make you feel any better?

Melanie:

Wait- you have proper recording equipment and you just, _choose_ to use this nonsense?

Martin:

It’s- um, it tends to be a lot more reliable that more, conventional. Recording equipment.

Melanie:

Uh-huh.

You know what? It’s fine. My name is Melanie king, one of the hosts of Ghost Hunt UK.

Martin:

A-and the subject of your statement?

Melanie:

What I saw at the abandoned Cambridge Military Hospital when we were filming there in January 2015.

Martin:

Alright, um, Recording date 17th April, 2016. Statement begins.

[CLICK]

[CLICK]

Martin:

Alright, and er- you said you gave us some video footage?

Melanie:

Yeah, it’s... pretty badly distorted though, can't really make anything out.

Martin:

That’s er, not too weird. Actually. As far as i’ve been able to tell, I mean this isn’t like, o-official research or anything it’s just. I don’t think digital stuff, likes, the supernatural?

Melanie:

Wait, seriously?

Martin:

Y-yeah. Like I said I don’t think there’s been any official research into it, since we sort of had to figure it out on our down here, but. Well, you can sort-of tell who’s telling the truth about the um, spooky stuff. By whether it goes on the computer or not.

Melanie:

So is that why you guys have the whole, retro chic thing going on with your equipment?

Martin:

Yeah, most of the time it’s the only thing that works.

Melanie:

Wow.

Martin:

S-so if it makes you feel better than means that um, what happened at the hospital... it was definitely supernatural. And you should probably keep away from, well, all of it.

Melanie:

What do you mean ‘all of it?’

Martin:

I mean- Sarah, the hospital, anything that was related to your experience just. Stay away from it, don’t try to look, don’t- don’t try to make it make sense b-because it... i’ve read enough stories like this to know chasing answers is a really, really bad idea. And if you see something similar just- turn around and walk the other way.

Melanie:

Look, I appreciate your concern. But I didn't come here just to be told to just, forget it ever happened. Especially not now you just told me it was real.

Martin:

L-look, I understand where you’re coming from-

Melanie:

No, I really, really don’t think you do.

Martin:

Fine. W-well anyway, I doubt we’ll be able to get much more than you had anyway. So, i’m sorry we can’t be of anymore help to you Miss King.

Melanie:

Sure.

[THERE IS THE SCRAPE OF A CHAIR, AND RECEDING FOOTSTEPS. MARTIN SIGHS]

Martin:

Statement ends.

[CLICK]

[case #0020406 Old Passages]

[CLICK]

Martin:

Statement ends.

So that’s gerard keay again, I think. I suppose spooky books are a sort of, family business? And then Jurgen leitner. Not exactly what I expected, then again not sure what I should have thought about a guy who went around collecting evil books. I suppose Gerard didn’t burn that one though, I mean, his mum apparently just. Had it. Gotta wonder what kind of home life someone who’s parents collect evil books even has, I mean, he was a teenager here. And that’s got to be dangerous for a teenager, right? I mean, a guy died down there! Honestly no wonder he went nuts.

Er- follow up, right.

Not a whole lot to do here. Everyone involved denies it, and Alfred Bartletts death was listed as a heart attack on the job.

There is something interesting though, apparently the building was built by robert Smirke. Which really excited Tim. He really likes architecture and Smirke is apparently some sort of idol of his. He went on a big rant about how Smrike is a-a master of subtle stability. Or something. I don’t know, architecture isn’t really my thing, it’s nice to see him so excited about something though. 

Though apparently Smirkes buildings are like, a magnet for supernatural nonsense. If there’s something weird happening to a building, it’s probably Smirke. Which is interesting. I wonder if it’s on purpose, or just- Eugh!

[A CHAIR SCREECHES BACK SUDDENLY]

Ah, gross gross gross. Come on, extinguisher- come on- Jon! Do you know where the rest of the extinguishers are? Jon!

[HIS VOICE GETS FAINTER AS HIS FOOTSTEPS QUICKLY RECEDE. FOLLOWED BY A NEW SET OF FOOTSTEPS]

Jon:

Martin? What did you-

Breekon:

‘scuse us.

Hope:

Looking for the Archivist.

Jon:

I-I-I’m sorry? Who the hell are-

Breekon: 

Won’t take up your time.

Hope:

Just got a delivery.

Jon:

Look you can’t just barge in here-

Breekon:

Package for Martin Blackwood, 

Hope:

Says it right here

Jon:

W-well I-

Hope:

We’ll just leave it with you

Breekon:

Be sure he gets it.

Jon:

Wh- you just barge in and expect me to-

Hope:

No time to chat

Breekon:

Deliveries to make you know.

Jon:

I- I don’t care! You can’t just waltz in and- this is a-an archive you can’t just-

Breekon:

Any thoughts on small spaces?

Hope:

Just out of curiosity.

[DISTANT FOOTSTEPS APPROACH IN THE BACKGROUND]

Jon:

Wh-what?

[A DOOR OPENS]

Martin:

Oh! Damn, Jon I was- er. Oh. Hello? Who’s this?

Jon:

Martin! These two just- barged in here and won’t-

Breekon:

Don’t mind us

Hope:

Package for you

Martin: 

For me? W-wh-

[MARTIN MAKES A SMALL SOUND OF BEWILDERMENT]

Breekon:

Here you go

Hope:

Much obliged

Martin:

I- er, thank you? But you really can’t be-

Breekon:

Of course, not a problem

Hope:

Stay safe

Martin:

Thank... you...?

  
  


Breekon:

Your recorders on by the way

Hope:

Might want to fix that.

  
  


Martin:

Oh. Uh- yeah.Thanks. I’ll do that.

  
  


[CLICK]

[Case #0090608 Burnt offering]

[CLICK]

Statement ends.

[MARTIN TAKES A SHUDDERING BREATH]

W-well. Plus side is, he um. His son- Ethan, didn’t die. He’s um, he’s currently as far as I can tell a happy, healthy eleven year old. Living with a really nice foster family. In um, in Inverness.

Jason north, however. He um... He- god. These just... I...

[THERE’S A PAUSE AS MARTIN TRIES TO GATHER HIMSELF]

H-he doused himself in gasoline and... he set himself on fire. I- I don’t want to go into details. But... he died.

Apparently he included um, some evidence. With his statement. The picture he said he found in the bottle.

it’s... It’s gertrude. Gertrude Robinson. My... predecessor, I suppose.

God, just- the more things we uncover. The more I just... why me? Why us? W-why out of everyone in the institute did we all... What made anyone think I was a good enough leader to be someone’s boss? W-what made them think i’m a leader at all? Why- why is all of this happening? God i’m just... I’m so tired.

I think there might be something wrong with the statements. I haven’t... I haven’t said anything to the others but... I just- whenever I record these... it wears me out, and, more than that. It feels like... like i’m _there_. Like i’m feeling all their fear and it’s just-

[HE SIGHS]

I tried to bring up quitting to the others but they... they won’t hear it. I- I um, may have put in a request to have them transferred back upstairs anyway though. I don’t know how well it’ll go over, especially if Elias tries to take it to them, but... This place isn’t safe.

I... I’ve tried to get them to stick together more when they leave the institute, I mean they don’t have to go home together or anything just- on lunches and such. Like a sort-of unofficial buddy system. I doubt they’ll listen to me of course, i’m not exactly... they don’t listen to me, not really. And I don’t blame them, I- I worry too much. And i’m just a big mess and- I think they’ve probably noticed that I don’t really know what i’m doing- like, at all. But I just... I just want them safe. All of them. They’re- they may not listen to me but- i’m in charge of them, in a sense. I mean I know i’m their boss, in theory all I should be worrying about is their work ethic b-but... with all of this that’s happening. Well, supernatural bullshit apparently comes with the job. A-and if i’m their boss and it’s a- a workplace hazard then it’s my job to protect them from it, right? E-even if they don’t listen I have to- I have to at least _try_.

I uh- I gave Jon a corkscrew the other day. I figured it might help him feel better about the whole worm situation. I mean, they burrow in a straight line from what I can tell, and a corkscrew seems like it would work way better than a knife. Less messy at least. I’m... not sure he appreciated it, which is- fair. Not exactly a conventional gift. Not exactly a conventional situation either. But he didn’t give it back, so that’s a start.

I'm going to keep them safe. I am. I have to.

Recording ends.

[CLICK] 

[Case #0120606 Lost and found]

[CLICK]

Statement ends.

Poor guy, I know I say this a lot but... Just- poor guy.

Tim found his marriage certificate, it's filled out and notarized and everything. Except the half where his husband should have been is just, empty. Like he's married to no one.

He's... Probably gone by now. They usually are by the time we get to them. I just- I wish there was a way to help. But Elias has made it pretty clear that's not an option. Because he’s either too steeped in bureaucracy to care about human life, or he’s secretly a monster who just likes watching bad things happen to people.

I guess that’s just capitalism really.

Also more repeating names, Mikeale Salesa this time. He seemed pretty confused about the pot, I wonder if he gives people haunted things on purpose, or if he’s just really, really unlucky.

Bad luck does seem to be the only connector to any of this. Run into the wrong person, step on the wrong beetle, enter the wrong building, and suddenly you’re just- done. Whole life destroyed just like that. Either you go nuts and become a monster or you die. That’s it.

N-no, that’s. Come on Martin, optimism. There’s- not everyone dies. Plenty escape, got enough statements to prove it. Sure you’re traumatised forever, but you’re alive. It’s not- 

[A PAUSE]

Oh! Hello, didn’t see you sitting there. Awful place for a web you know.

[A CHAIR SCREECHES AND SOME SHUFFLING]

Martin:

Hmm, come on, onto the- there you go. Now lets get you out-

[MARTIN YELPS, THERE’S A THUMP AND A LOUD CRASH]

Martin:

_Shit-_ ow. You little bastard, I was trying to help you know. Christ. 

[A DOOR OPENS]

Jon:

Everything alright in here- oh good lord.

Martin:

Hi- yeah, sorry. Fine. Ran into a shelf and it er, collapsed. Is all.

Jon:

I can see that. You know for such a prestigious institute you think they’d invest in something slightly more sturdy than an ikea shelving unit.

Martin:

Hah, yeah you’d think. Can you help me pick this up?

Jon:

Alright.

Martin:

Christ what a mess, do you think we could get Tim or Sasha to help out?

Jon:

Oh, they’re both out at the moment. Tim wanted to grab an early lunch, so Sasha volunteered to come along.

Martin:

Oh, well lucky for them they get to miss this mess then.

[SOME SHUFFLING AND A BRIEF RUSTLE OF PAPER BEFORE JON MAKES AS SMALL, CONFUSED SOUND]

Martin:

What?

Jon:

The wall, looks like it was dented when the shelf hit it.

Martin:

Oh, yeah- wait a moment... It goes straight through.

Jon:

Does it?

Martin:

I thought this was an exterior wall, but this is just plasterboard, look.

[SOUND OF DEBRIS BEING MOVED]

Jon:

So it is, do you see anything?

[THERE IS A LOW SOUND OF WET WRIGGLING]

Martin:

No I- wait, yeah. I think I see...

[WORM SOUND INTENSIFIES, MARTIN YELPS]

Martin:

Jon, get back, get- _Run!_

[CLICK]

[CLICK]

Jon:

What the hell are you doing!? 

Martin:

I just- Almost-

Jon:

Leave it they’re catching up-

Martin:

-got it, lets go!

[CLICK]

[CLICK]

  
  


Martin:

The extinguishers! Jon the-

Jon:

I know! Just let me-

[MARTIN YELLS, FOLLOWED BY THE SOUND OF AN EXTINGUISHER]

Martin:

There’s too many!

Jon:

Shit!

Martin:

Oh god- what do we do!?

Jon:

I don’t know!

Martin:

I-I, we need, we need to- 

Jon:

Martin!

Martin:

I need to think- I need- Just-

Jon:

_Martin!_

Martin:

This way!

[CLICK]

[CLICK]

Martin:

And... there we go, recording again.

[HIS VOICE IS TIGHT AND PAINED]

Jon:

Is that really entirely necessary?

Martin:

Is what necessary?

Jon:

That, the tape. Surely we have bigger priorities.

Martin:

Look, if- _when_ . When we get out of here, I want- I want this on tape. S- so when Elias tries to tell me i’m- _overeacting_ when I tell him we have a problem, I can shove it in his stupid smug face. It and the bloody corkscrew.

[A PAUSE]

Martin:

What?

Jon:

N-nothing I just, is he really that bad? I mean i’ve spoken to him and he always seemed rather... inoffensive.

Martin:

Yeah, well, you’ve never had to ask him for extra security after an employee gets attacked. Or for extra extinguishers, or for basic filing supplies.

Jon:

Ah.

[ANOTHER PAUSE]

Jon:

It was good thinking, on the corkscrew.

Martin:

Hah, yeah. I just wish i’d thought to add painkillers to the gift list. Or bandages, i’m making a mess over here I think.

Jon:

Er, yes.

Martin:

Can you see anything? Any sign of Tim and Sasha?

Jon:

No, not so far. I- ah!

Martin:

What?

Jon:

I see- I see them coming down the stairs now. They- is that a pizza? Wh- nevermind, anyway. I don’t think they see- no, Sasha’s spotted Prentiss, she’s- she’s shouting something. I can’t tell what it is I can’t, she’s- she’s trying to get Tim, he’s seen Prentiss now he’s- oh, he hit her with the pizza box- and now Sasha’s grabbed Tim and they’re running- running upstairs. Out of the archive, Prentiss is after them but I think- I think she was confused by Tims, er, attack. So I think they’ve gotten away, got out of the archives at least.

Martin:

Did- did it look like the worms got either of them?

Jon:

I don’t- I don’t think so, but it was hard to tell. There’s a lot of- movement. The worms are- well.

[HE SOUNDS VAGUELY NAUSEATED]

Martin:

Right, yeah. Okay. Well. We’ll just- we’ll wait then. hopefully they’ll have gone to go get help and not just... we’ll wait.

Jon:

Is that really the whole plan?

Martin:

What?

Jon:

We just- wait.

Martin:

Oh i’m sure you have something much better

Jon:

I- well- we should at least try and come up with something better than- than waiting for our own deaths! A-A backup or, something!

Martin:

We’re not- we’re waiting for help, that’s all. It’s not- it’s not unreasonable to wait!

Jon:

No but- damnit. Not everything can be solved by- by hiding in a corner. We can’t just wait and hope for the best! I don’t understand why you do this, it doesn’t make any sense. Prentiss is proof that we’re no safer hiding away in the archives than anywhere else, so why are you so determined to- to hide us away from everything!

Martin:

This isn’t about Prentiss, is it.

Jon:

No. It’s not.

Martin:

I- I don’t know how to explain it.

Jon:

Try anyway.

Martin:

Fine. I- It’s... I guess i’m scared. I-I mean of course i’m scared, this entire situation is- it’s all. It’s scary, not just Prentiss. The statements, e-even that Micheal thing, all of it. Every part of the supernatural just seems like a giant trap, waiting to- to pull in the nearest unsuspecting victim. And we’re somehow all in the center of it. And I thought- I thought maybe we could be- t-the eye of the storm. If we just kept to ourselves maybe it would be safe! M-maybe I could keep you safe.

It didn’t work though, clearly. I-I don’t know why i’m surprised, i’m, i’m not even- i’m not... it doesn’t matter anyway. We’re trapped either way.

[HE HUFFS OUT A BITTER LAUGH]

Stupid.

Jon:

I’m sorry.

Martin:

Don’t apologize, you’re right.

Jon:

I- no- you... sorry.

Martin:

Like I said, don’t be. ‘S not your fault.

Jon:

I... I- understand, Though. I- I’ve been doing something similar, I suppose.

Martin:

Hmm?

Jon:

The... skepticism. I’ve shown towards the supernatural may not be entirely... true.

Martin:

Well, yeah I knew _that_.

[JON SPUTTERS, MARTIN LAUGHS]

Martin:

It’s not exactly a secret. You’re an awful liar, Jon.

Jon:

Wh- y- I am not!

[MARTIN HUMMS, UNCONVINCED]

Jon:

I just- this supernatural business. The institute even, it’s all... wrong. I suppose, there’s something off about it and deny it all just seemed- safer.

Martin:

Safer than staying away from it?

Jon:

Oh, shut up Martin.

Martin:

Hey! I am still your boss you know.

Jon:

I- i’m sorry-

Martin:

Oh, god. Sorry. That wasn’t- I was joking, Jon. Don’t worry about it.

Jon:

A-ah.

[THERE’S A SILENCE]

Martin:

I should fire you, you know.

Jon:

I- w-what?

Martin:

Not- not because you’re a bad worker or anything it’s just, all of you. Really. I should have fired you all ages ago. As soon as I realized that something- something wasn’t right down here. I should have quit, too.

Jon:

Why don’t you?

Martin:

Quit? Or fire you?

Jon:

Both, I suppose.

Martin:

W-well, honestly? Quitting, I- I can’t really afford too I guess. I um- between bills a-and my mum I just- I can’t. A-and since- well. I just have more than myself to think about, y'know? A-and it’s not like it’s easy to get a job, especially for me.

And you... I- I don’t know really, i’ve thought about it before. I er- actually tried to have you all transferred out of the archives. Back to research. Got denied of course, no idea why. The paperwork was a mess of corporate jargon. Might as well have been latin for all I could figure it.

But firing you, it just- I don’t know. I-I’ve tried, a few times. But I just... it feels wrong. I guess. To do it.

[A PAUSE]

Jon:

What do you mean 'at least for you'?

Martin:

What?

Jon:

Why would it be harder for you to get a job? I mean you're just as qualified as any of us. 

Martin:

I-I mean, I- well- I just...

[HE SIGHS, AND THERE’S A LIGHT THUMP, THEN A SMALL CONFUSED SOUND]

Martin:

Wh- Wait a moment.

[A PAUSE, THEN A SMALL HOLLOW SOUNDING KNOCK, AND ANOTHER.]

Jon:

What are you doing...?

Martin:

The wall, its... give me a sec.

[THERE’S A PAINED GRUNT, AND SOME SHUFFLING]

Jon:

Martin, what on earth-

[TWO MORE KNOCKS]

Martin:

This wall is hollow.

Jon:

What- that can’t be right. That should be solid all the way through.

[A PAUSE, THEN A LOUD AND SOLID THUNK]

Jon:

Wh- what in gods name are you doing!?

Martin:

If the wall is hollow it means there’s a space, it might be a gap between the walls- we could use it to escape.

Jon:

Wh- what if there are more-

Martin:

There aren’t, put your ear to it. They’re loud, at least in large groups. We’d’ve heard it. And if there are any we've got extinguishers.

Jon:

B-but-

Martin:

You wanted a plan.

Jon:

I was hoping for something a bit more...

Martin:

Well, this is the best we’ve got. Now, are you going to help me or not?

Jon:

Fine. To the worms it is then.

Martin:

I told you there aren't- just, help me out here. Alright?

[THE SOUNDS OF SEVERAL SOLID THUNKS, AND THE SOUND OF CRUMBLING DEBRIS. SOMEONE GASPS]

Jon:

Good lord

Martin:

Is that...

Jon:

A tunnel.

Martin:

I didn’t know the institute had tunnels.

Jon:

It shouldn’t.

Martin:

Well, I-I suppose there’s no way to go but forward, do you have a torch?

Jon:

I have my phone light.

Martin:

Alright then. Let’s- oh, wait.

[SOME SHUFFLING]

Martin:

There we go, in case of any er- worms, down there.

Jon:

Are... Are you sure you can walk like that? I mean, your leg-

Martin:

I’ll be alright, i’ll just, stick to the walls.

Jon:

You can lean on me, if you need to.

Martin:

O-oh. Yeah, alright.

[SOME MORE SHUFFLING]

Jon:

Alright?

Martin:

Yeah, let’s go.

[CLICK]

[CLICK]

[ THERE ARE QUICK AND HEAVY FOOTFALLS, PAIRED WITH LABORED BREATHING]

[THE FOOTSTEPS BEGIN TO SLOW DOWN]

Jon:

Alright?

Martin:

Yup, fine.

[HE DOES NOT SOUND FINE]

Martin:

Do you see any more of them?

Jon:

No, I think- I think we lost them for now. Any idea where we are?

Martin:

God no. but I think- wait, is that a-

Jon:

What? What is it?

Martin:

An empty packet of mint imperials?

Jon:

Wh- christ Martin don’t scare me like that.

Martin:

Oh- oh god sorry I didn’t mean to, sorry. I just- sorry.

Jon:

It’s fine.

[SILENCE BETWEEN THE FOOTSTEPS]

[MARTIN MAKES A PAINED SOUND]

Martin:

Can- can we stop for a bit? I just need to-

Jon:

I- but the worms-

  
  


Martin:

It’s been- it’s been a bit since we’ve seen any , I think- actually I’m not sure we’re still under the institute anymore and I think- I think we’re safe for now, and I just- I just need a moment.

Jon:

Alright.

[THE FOOTSTEPS STOP, THERE IS SOME BRIEF SHUFFLING THEN MARTIN SIGHS]

[ANOTHER BRIEF SILENCE, THEN JON MAKES A SMALL ALARMED NOISE]

Martin:

What? What’s wrong?

Jon:

I- I think I saw something. Over there. I’m going to take a closer look.

Martin:

Wh- wait, Jon-

Jon:

I-i’ll just be a moment, hold on.

[FOOTSTEPS QUICKLY RECEDE]

Martin:

_Jon-_ dammit.

[MARTIN SIGHS, THEN GRUNTS IN PAIN.] 

[THERE ARE SOME HESITANT FOOTSTOPS]

[FROM SOMEWHERE IN THE DISTANCE, JON YELLS]

Martin:

Jon!? Jon!

[THE FOOTSTEPS SPEED UP]

Martin:

Jon! J- oof!

[JON YELPS AT THE APPARENT COLLISION]

Martin:

Jon! What happened- are you-

Jon:

I’m fine, i’m fine. It was- it was just a spider. I may have... overreacted.

[MARTIN HUFFS]

Martin:

Christ Jon, you scared me. I thought you’d been- I-I don’t know, eaten by worms or- or-

Jon:

A packet of mint imperials?

Martin:

Oh- shut up, Jon.

[JON LAUGHS]

Martin:

Eurgh.

Jon:

What?

Martin:

Do you smell that? It smells...

Jon:

Oh- eugh. That is unpleasant.

Martin:

I think it’s coming from over there. Shine the light at that door for me, would you?

Jon:

Oh, yes, alright.

Martin:

Thank you... Oh, God.

Jon: 

What? What is- oh good lord.

Martin:

Oh god- it- that- she

Jon:

Is that-

Martin:

Gertrude.

[CLICK]

[CLICK]

Jon:

-trap door. She could be waiting for us on the other side for all we know.

Martin:

I- we just, we need to get out of here. A-and I don’t know if there even are anymore exits. Plus, we need to find out what happened to everyone else.

Jon:

If you’re sure.

Martin:

I don’t think I've ever been less sure in my life. 

let's go.

[GRUNTS OF EFFORT, AND THE SOUND OF A TRAPDOOR CREAKING. FOLLOWED BY THE SOUND OF A FIRE ALARM GOING OFF AND THE SQUIRMING OF THOUSANDS OF WORMS]

Prentiss:

_Archivist._

Martin:

Fuck.

Jon:

Shit.

[CLICK]

[CLICK]

Elias:

Martin I really must insist. As your boss i’m telling you to go home.

Martin:

Not yet, I- Jon’s still in with the paramedics and I- I need to know what happened after we- while we were in the tunnels and- 

Elias:

Martin, you look like a mummy. Surely this can wait.

Martin:

No. I’m done waiting. I- I’ll go home once I- once I know that everyone’s safe.

Elias:

I see. Very well then.

Martin:

Alright. Statement of Elias Bouchard, Head of the Magnus Institute, regarding the… i-infestation by the entity formerly known as Jane Prentiss. Statement recorded direct from subject, 29th July, 2016.

Elias:

There isn’t a lot to tell for my part. This afternoon, just after lunch, I was going over some budgets in my office, as I normally do on a Tuesday, when the fire alarm started going off. It was annoying, but not too worrying at first. I packed my work away, and began to calmly head towards the evacuation point, when Tim and Sasha came barreling through the door babbling about worms.

I told them that whatever was wrong should wait until we were out of the building, as there may be a fire. Sasha told me she had set off the fire alarm to get everyone out, and that Jane Prentiss had swarmed the archives.

Obviously that got my attention. I suggested recording the subsequent conversation largely so this sort of debrief wouldn’t be necessary. But there were no tapes available at the time.

I explained to her about the recently installed fire suppression system, and said that, as there was no actual fire, we’d need to activate it manually. We hurried down, and it was clear everyone else had already evacuated. We… had reached the ground floor when… well…

I… know I have often seemed dismissive of your concerns before-

Martin:

That’s certainly one way to put it.

Elias:

Yes... I am very sorry Martin. I don’t believe I was truly appreciating the scope of the problem. I admit I thought that perhaps you were... overreacting, clearly the content of the statements had been getting to you, and thought that perhaps you were becoming somewhat paranoid. In the end in the face of the evidence you tried to provide I let that belief cloud my judgement. And for that I am truly sorry.

Martin:

I- no, i’m. Sorry. It’s fine.

Elias:

It’s no problem. Everyone is forgiven then, I suppose.

Anyway, I didn’t fully appreciate what you’d been talking about until I turned that corner and we saw what I can only describe as a… a tidal wave of filth rushing towards us. I feel somewhat ashamed to admit I didn’t really pay any attention to Tim or Sasha as I ran, and we became separated.

I composed myself, and decided on a more roundabout route to the boiler room. Luckily, it seemed the things were mainly concentrated in that one mass, leaving the other corridors largely vacant. It took me ten minutes, maybe fifteen, but I made it with only one close call. The sight of rows and rows of huge, red CO2 canisters was certainly something of a comfort. I do apologize that it took me quite so long to figure out how to actually work the system. If I’d been quicker…

Martin:

I-it’s fine. I mean, we survived.

Elias:

Yes. Well. I turned on the fire suppression system. And… that’s when I heard the scream. I can’t really describe it but… well, I’m sure I don’t need to, you were a lot closer to it than I was.

Martin:

Y-yeah. The last thing I remember actually before passing out was- that. L-like a thousand- _things_ screaming a-and they didn’t even have mouths-

Elias:

Yes. Horrible sound. Anyway, I called the fire department, ambulance and a contact at the ECDC who had previously been involved in the Prentiss investigation. Once I was sure most of the gas would have dissipated, I headed down to the Archives to see what had happened. I found you not far in. It looked like about few a dozen had been working through both of you when the carbon dioxide killed them, it was like bloody swiss cheese-

Martin:

Yup! I - no, don’t need to hear that part. I-I remember the bandaging and quarantine plenty.

Elias:

Of course, apologies.

Martin:

A-alright. And that’s- wait. Before I stop the tape I- I want it on record. What... what happened, to Gertrude?

Elias:

Martin, I think this can wait.

Martin:

L-look I just, I need to- we saw her, Elias. Me and Jon. She was just, sitting there in that room. I-I just want to- to know.

Elias:

Fine.

On the 15th of March last year, I had a query about a statement one of our researchers was after and went down to the Archives. Gertrude wasn’t there, but her desk was covered in blood. I called the police, and there was a huge search, but there was no sign was found of Gertrude, alive or dead. She didn’t have any assistants, so there were no witnesses, and no-one saw or heard anything.

The police tested the blood and confirmed the DNA matched to Gertrude, though I don’t know why they had her on file. They judged there to be almost a gallon of blood spilled, far more than the human body can lose and survive, so I assumed she was dead and left the investigation to the police, for all that good it did me. And I appointed another archivist.

Martin:

Thank you, Elias.

  
  


Elias:

Of course.

[CLICK]

[CLICK]

Sasha:

Are you sure you should be doing this now? I mean you sort of look a bit...

Martin:

Yeah, I know. It’s fine, More importantly are you alright? I Know you and Tim were stuck down there in archive storage when the system went off.

Sasha:

We’re alright, Tim’s still a bit out of it. And I have a bit of a headache, but we’re alive.

Martin:

And you’re sure you’re alright to give a statement now?

Sasha:

I promise I'm fine, plus I honestly would rather just get this over with.

Martin:

A-alright then. Statement of Sasha James, archival assistant at the Magnus Institute, regarding the infestation by the entity formerly known as Jane Prentiss. Statement recorded direct from subject, 29th July 2016. Statement begins.

Sasha:

Well, you probably remember how me and Tim left for lunch early, originally it was just Tim who wanted to go. I think he might have been getting a bit antsy with everything that’s been going on lately. But you’ve made it pretty clear we’re not really meant to be going off alone- even if it just is for lunch. Which... honestly I didn’t really think it was necessary at the time.

I mean I knew Prentiss was a threat, but I suppose I just couldn’t see how pairing up at all times could help. I’m glad I did decide to go though. I can't imagine how things would have gone if I hadn't.

We decided to get everyone lunch while we were out in the end, everything had been so tense lately, between Jon’s denial and your fighting with Elias. It seemed like it might be a nice way to lighten the mood a bit. So we stopped by that place down the street and headed back.

When we got back everything was quiet, quieter than normal that is. I was on edge immediately, I don’t think Tim noticed. He went straight towards the office, probably to let you know we’d brought lunch. That’s when I saw her, I shouted and Tim turned around. I went to grab him to- to drag him away from her. And then he wound up and hit her with the pizza.

It was disgusting, honestly. Bits of worm and chunks of tomato sauce flying around. Some of it stuck to her face and packed into the- the holes the worms left behind, it might have been funny if it weren’t so- so awful.

It did stun her long enough for me to grab him and get us out of there. We ran up the stairs chased by a wall of- of worms. I hit the fire alarm in the hall outside the archive and we headed upstairs to make sure everyone got out alright. That’s when we ran into Elias.

He told us about the fire suppression system, and so we followed him until we got separated- a swarm of the things came down the hall and we ended up going different directions. Me and Tim ended up all the way down in archive storage. I- I didn’t like it, honestly. Being there. Used to work there.

Martin:

Really?

Sasha:

  
  


Yeah, three months. Some of the worst three months of my life, the things you find in there Martin- honestly it might be the most dangerous place in the institute- don’t look at me like that. I know. But, well. There weren’t any worms, besides it wasn’t like anywhere else was _safer_. And, well, at least I wasn’t alone. 

Anyway, from there we just sort of, sat until the fire system went off. Then we ran out for the nearest window- Tim ended up behind, too busy making sure I got out safely. The bastard. After that we heard the scream, and I had to drag his loopy rear end outside into the fresh air. I wasn’t really thinking too clearly myself honestly. I kept thinking the worms were just going to- to come back to life and start eating at us. They didn’t of course, but it was such a real fear in the moment. It’s a strange thing, not being able to trust- to trust your senses. That your head and eyes could lie to you so easily.

A-anyway, once Tim was outside, I tried to go back in to find you two- but that’s when the ECDC arrived. They stuck us in quarantine and we spent a while being poked and prodded until we got the okay. And then the police had questions- I didn’t even get confirmation you were both alright until Elias told me you wanted my statement and had me come up here to his office.

Martin:

O-oh, god. Sasha i’m so sorry-

Sasha:

It’s fine, Martin. It wasn’t your fault. Besides, you and Jon definitely got it the worst out of all of us. God. How is Jon doing, by the way? I didn’t get a chance to see him before coming up here.

Martin:

He’s alright, he actually tried to give a statement as soon as he got out of quarantine. But- well, I already got everything we saw on tape. Besides he was- well. I just sent him home before you came in. He doesn’t look great. 

Sasha:

Worse than you?

Martin:

W-well...

Sasha:

You should go home too, Martin. Tim won’t have much different to say than me, and you look like you need the rest.

Martin:

Y-yeah. I think I will. Thanks Sasha.

Sasha:

Of course, take care of yourself, Martin.

Martin:

You too.

[CLICK]

[CLICK]

[THERE’S A MOMENT OF SILENCE, THEN A SHAKY BREATH]

Martin:

I- Gertrude Robinson was- murdered. Here, in the institute. 

I knew, she was probably dead. B-but the fact that she’s been- she’s been here. Practically below our feet the entire time...

I’m worried, about everyone. This place, there’s something wrong with it. The archives are- are messed up, somehow. I tried looking into Gertrude, what she- what she did as the archivist or just in general that might make someone want her dead. But... she had assistants too, you know. For a bit. They... they all died. In various a-accidents. Or disappeared. Same with her predecessor, god. One guy even blinded himself before going missing entirely.

Is that what’s going to happen to us? Are we just going to get- get picked off, one by one by various horrible things until the archive is empty and the process can start again?

There’s a reason, though. There has to be. Jon was right, hiding- hiding won’t work. The supernatural is going to find us- to hurt us, no matter what we do. And we can’t leave. I know because I- i’ve tried. I tried to write out my resignation, I even tried to give everyone the pink slip. But, My pen ran out of ink, then when I used a pencil my hand got so shaky you couldn’t even read the letters. And finally when I tried to type it my computer crashed. 

And then... there’s that weird- watched feeling. When I read statements. Like there’s someone just behind me, watching. But there’s nobody there. There’s never anybody there. All of this- it’s not just monsters hiding outside, there’s something in the institute too.

So- so no more running, no more hiding. Whatever this- this curse on the archive is. I’m going to figure it out. I’m going to figure it out, and I'm going to keep us all safe.

End recording.

[CLICK]

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Check out my tumblr https://misterghostfrog.tumblr.com/ I do art there
> 
> Speaking of art, i've drawn my version of Archivist Martin, or The Marchivist. 
> 
> https://misterghostfrog.tumblr.com/post/627459279810609152/martin-as-the-archivist-the-marchivist-this


End file.
